Ellie looked at the compass, its blue glow steady as it pointed toward the distant horizon. A day had passed since leaving the Thornveil Wilds.

Her hand tightened on the skiff’s tiller. Crystal Shores lay far behind her now, and ahead . . . ahead was Drakemere Island, though she’d never seen it herself. Only heard the tales of the Dragonkin queen’s fortress carved into seaside cliffs.

The thinning morning fog revealed a massive shape. A warship emerged, its dragon-headed prow cutting through the waves.

“Well, what have we here?” The voice carried across the water. A figure stood at the warship’s rail.

Ellie’s hands moved swiftly, concealing the compass beneath a coil of fishing nets. “Just fishing,” she called back. “These are open waters.”

“Open waters?” The figure laughed. “You’ve strayed far from your fishing grounds, Shorling.”

The warship drew alongside her skiff. Ellie could now see the figure clearly—a dragonkin commander, his scar stark against his dark scales, his armor gleaming with shadow drake scales.

Ropes snaked down from the warship’s deck, and Dragonkin warriors descended. Their boots thudded against the skiff’s planks. Ellie stood as they surrounded her, their scaled hands resting on sword hilts.

The commander landed last. He towered over her, studying her face. “You have the look of dragon blood about you,” he said, his voice carrying the cultured accent of Dragonkin nobility. “Diluted, but there.” He circled her slowly. “Now, why would someone of your . . . lineage be sailing these waters alone?”

“I’m free to sail where I please,” Ellie said, meeting his gaze.

“Are you? We’ve been tracking you since the cave. Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

His hand shot out, grabbing her chin. “The Seafarer’s Sigil. Don’t insult us both by pretending ignorance.”

Ellie jerked away from his grip. “I don’t have it.”

“Search the vessel. Tear it apart if you must.”

His warriors moved with brutal efficiency. They ripped up floorboards, dumped out her supplies, scattered her food across the deck. One warrior kicked over her water barrel, letting precious fresh water drain into the bilge.

“Commander Shadowspear!” A younger Dragonkin held up the compass. “Found it beneath the nets.”

Shadowspear took the compass. “Ah, there you are, old friend.” He turned to Ellie. “You shouldn’t lie to those who can smell deception.”

“Kill her,” one warrior suggested, drawing his blade. “Leave her body for the seadrakes.”

“No.” Shadowspear said. “She’s entering the Undertow Sea. Without this compass, she’ll never navigate the Dragon’s Maws.” He gestured at the horizon where dark clouds gathered. “The seadrakes will have her soon enough. A far more . . . fitting end for one of her bloodline.”

The Dragonkin departed as swiftly as they’d arrived, taking her only means of navigation with them. Ellie watched their ship disappear, leaving her alone on the ravaged skiff.

Ahead lay the Dragonspine Reaches—a maze of volcanic islands with edges sharp enough to slice through hull wood. Massive whirlpools, the infamous Dragon’s Maws, dotted the waters between the peaks. As clouds blotted the sun, she could see patches of eerie blue light marking the deep trenches where ancient things dwelled.

Ellie let out a breath and whispered one of her mother’s old Shorling prayers: “Blessed tides guide me, ancient currents keep me.” The familiar words steadied her nerves only slightly.

She surveyed the destruction on her small skiff. Most of her food was ruined, soaked with water and crushed underfoot by the Dragonkin warriors. She salvaged what she could—a few pieces of dried fish, some hard bread wrapped in oilcloth that had protected it from the worst of the damage. The fresh water was gone, all of it drained away when they’d kicked over her barrel.

“Think, Ellie,” she said, gathering the scattered nets and coiling them properly. She had the knowledge to catch fish, but her water supply was running dangerously low. Unlike Lake Dragontide’s clean, fresh waters back home, the Undertow Sea teemed with dangers. Luminescent jellyfish trailing poisonous tendrils drifted just beneath the surface. Worse were the microscopic seadrake spawn that could survive in a person’s belly for weeks before growing large enough to kill. She’d heard tales of sailors who’d drunk the water out of desperation, only to be eaten from the inside out. Even the floating patches of seemingly harmless sea moss contained toxins that could cause hallucinations and madness. She glanced at the clouded sky. Perhaps rain would provide the safe water she desperately needed.

Hour by hour, the dark clouds hung overhead, neither advancing nor retreating, turning the day into endless twilight. When they finally drifted apart, the sun was already setting. One by one, stars emerged, their light distant in the vast darkness over the Undertow Sea.

She chose a bright star to navigate by, though the jagged silhouettes of the Dragonspine islands kept blocking her view. Strange lights danced beneath the waves—some bioluminescent fish perhaps, or something worse. The splashing started soon after.

“Just waves,” she told herself, but the sounds were too deliberate, too rhythmic. Something large moved through the water, circling her small craft.

A distant roar echoed off the volcanic peaks. Ellie’s hands trembled on the tiller, wishing she had not set off for Pryce by herself.

Something bumped the skiff’s hull.

Ellie grabbed a lantern, holding it over the side. The light revealed nothing but black water and swirling patterns of phosphorescence. Another bump, harder this time, nearly knocked her off her feet.

“Show yourself!”

As if in answer, a massive shape rose beside the skiff. A head larger than her entire vessel emerged. The seadrake’s mouth opened, revealing rows of teeth as long as her arm.

Ellie could only stare. All the old stories, all the sailors’ warnings about these creatures—none had done justice to the sheer terror of seeing one up close.

The seadrake’s throat began to glow.

Steam rose from the creature’s jaws. Ellie didn’t think—she just moved. She dove to the deck as liquid fire streamed overhead. The mainsail caught the edge of the blast, flames racing up the canvas.

The seadrake’s tail rose from the water like a massive serpent, then slammed down. The impact sent a wall of water over the skiff. The cold shock of it stole Ellie’s breath, but at least it extinguished the burning sail.

Ellie scrambled to her feet.

The creature’s head snaked down, jaws wide. Ellie grabbed an oar and swung with all her might. The wooden shaft cracked against teeth like swords, splintering in her hands. But the blow made the seadrake rear back, more surprised than hurt.

Its roar shook the air. The sound bounced off the nearby islands, amplified and distorted until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Other calls answered from the darkness—more seadrakes, coming to investigate.

Massive shapes moved beneath the surface, their serpentine forms creating swirls of light in the black water. Three, no, four massive bodies circling her tiny vessel.

“No, no, no.” Ellie looked frantically for anything she could use as a weapon. There was nothing that would help against a monster this size.

The seadrake circled her craft, each pass bringing it closer. Its scales scraped against the hull, the sound like knives on wood. Playing with her. Toying with its prey before striking.

Ellie touched her wedding ring, twisted it once for luck, and made a decision. The volcanic islands weren’t far. If she could reach them.

But as she turned the skiff toward the razor-sharp rocks, all five seadrakes dove beneath the surface. The water went black.

The silence that followed was somehow worse than the roaring.